


#12: Never Park In Front of A Bar

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [12]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Undercover, dude where's the car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an undercover op, Clint leaves the car somewhere he probably shouldn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#12: Never Park In Front of A Bar

“Barton.”

Coulson’s voice pulled Clint’s mind back to the present from the wandering it had been doing as he waited for the coffee to brew. “Sir?” He spoke lowly, though they knew the cheap hotel room wasn’t bugged. They didn’t, however, know if it was being watched, which was why Coulson was only in radio contact with Clint while he was undercover for this op.

“Where did you leave the car last night?” Coulson’s voice was tired and maybe slightly exasperated.

“At the bar, where I met Sampson,” Clint said. It had become their pattern to have Coulson leave any new intel in the car, which Clint drove to work every day as part of his cover as a janitor at a local high school where they suspected a budding criminal mastermind had established rings for everything from drugs to prostitution and was getting ready to step into something larger. 

One reason they couldn’t be seen together was because Coulson had gone under as well, as a history teacher.

Coulson sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s not there.”

“What?”

“Peters went by a couple hours ago to drop today’s intel and said it was gone. I’ll get her working on tracking it down; I just wanted to make sure I remembered right before I sent her on a wild goose chase.”

Clint hummed. “Everything alright, sir? You sound…frustrated,” he decided after mulling over the word her wanted.

“I despair for the future of this country. Do you know how many 11th grade students think that Benjamin Franklin was the first president?”

Where Clint had to spend his day cleaning up after teenagers, Coulson was apparently responsible for collecting and grading homework. “Sir, y’know you don’t _actually_ have to give them homework, right?” he asked. “Actually, the students would probably love it if you didn’t.”

Coulson snorted. “No doubt, but I also can’t think of a better way to break my cover.”

“You obviously haven’t been talking to the guy that teaches the 9th graders,” Clint remarked. When Coulson didn’t respond, Clint prompted him. “Sir?”

“Where, exactly, did you leave the car, Barton?” Coulson asked.

“In front of the bar,” Clint responded.

Coulson sighed. “Okay. Peters found the car. It was towed at about 2 am.”

“Towed?” Clint echoed. There hadn’t been any meters on the street, and he hadn’t seen any ‘no parking’ signs. 

“It was booked as evidence for a bar fight,” Coulson said dryly.

“Shit.”

“Clint.”

“Hm?”

“How much of your gear was in that car?” Coulson asked.

“Oh, you know,” Clint responded, laying on the sarcasm. “Just all the surveillance equipment we’ve been using to monitor the school.”

Coulson sighed again and Clint could picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, as if to ward off a headache. 

“Weapons?”

“A couple,” Clint admitted.

“Alright, I’m gonna have to call Sitwell in to straighten this out before your alias gets himself arrested for being a complete and utter creeper for having that gear in a car that is regularly parked on school grounds.”

“Sorry, sir. I thought it better for my cover that I was too drunk to drive home last night.”

“Not your fault, Barton, you’re right. Just, in the future, park somewhere than right in front of the damn bar.”


End file.
